Fairytale of AAU
by serenacampbell
Summary: Since her return from Kiev, Bernie and Serena have avoided each other as much as possible. However, on Christmas Eve, a patient reminds Serena the importance of second chances, making her rethink her grudge. But can they really survive in a world of stress and conflict, or will their flaws tear them apart? Set over three Christmases, inspired by the classic 'Fairytale of New York'
1. This Year's For Me and You

**Merry Christmas everyone!**

 **I've been thinking about this fic for a while, as this is my favourite Christmas song of all time! In this fic, berena have avoided one another since Bernie's return from Kiev. It's set over three Christmases, following the three act structure of the song, and so will be split into three chapters (unless I get carried away as per usual). The next should be up tomorrow (fingers crossed).**

 **Hope you enjoy - let me know what you think!**

* * *

 _When the kids start singing and the band begins to play, ohhhh!"_

"Mr Park, can you _please_ get back into bed?!"

 _"So let the bells ring out for Christmas!"_

Fellow drunks in the bays next to him continued their song as Serena helped the young man back into bed, trying her hardest not to wrinkle her nose against the familiar stench of urine, White Lightening and vomit that clung to his skin. She made a mental note to put in a request for someone to make sure he had a wash before leaving, though she didn't think she could be so cruel as to make anyone give him a bed bath, on Christmas Eve of all days. She carefully pulled the blankets back up over the patient before scanning his chart.

"Well, Mr Park, seems like you've won yourself a nice trip to theatre."

"I hope its not _Little Red Riding Hood_ ," he muttered, his eyes twitching as he fidgeted in his bed.

"Looks like it's your lucky day, then," she replied, replacing his chart at the end of the bed and quickly sanitising her hands. "And if you're really lucky you might even get to have Christmas dinner with us." She began to walk away.

"I don't want it," he called after her. He scowled down at his hands, picking the grubby, calloused skin around his nails. "Just let me go, will you? I've taken enough time."

Serena turned back around, sighing. "I really do recommend that you stay," she advised, pursing her lips. "If they ulcer isn't treated soon it could perforate—"

"I don't care," he slurred, folding his arms determinedly with a drunken pout.

Serena took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the sight before her. Joshua Park was a regular on their ward, had been for at least a year now. He was twenty-three years old, yet his body, through years of self-inflicted abuse, was beginning to give up, one little step at a time. She wondered what it would be that would catch the young man out first. Alcohol poisoning? Liver failure? A drunken accident? It was tragic, really. He had so much living left to do, was so young, yet here he was, all alone in a hospital bed on Christmas Eve, his life destroyed by addiction.

With a heavy heart, she perched on the edge of the bed.

"Mr Park, I have to inform you that without this operation, there is a good chance you could die," she explained, interlacing her fingers in her lap. The young man looked at her with a flash of sadness in his eyes, before bowing his head.

"Look, doc," he began, his tone as sombre as was possible given the amount of alcohol he had consumed. "I have spent the last two Christmases in this hospital. We both know I won't see another one. I can't spend my last Christmas in a hospital bed, nil by mouth, watching whilst everyone else is having a good time." He looked at her solemnly, his forehead wrinkling as he appealed to her emotions. "I mean, if it was your last Christmas, how would you want to spend it?"

She smiled sympathetically at him, before realising he was asking her a genuine question. She hummed, her eyes lifting to the ceiling as she considered.

"I, uh," she mused, clearing her throat. "I've always wanted to slow dance to _Fairytale of New York_. I have this fantasy of being twirled around and laughing in the moonlight with the love of my life, as the clocks chime for Christmas Day." She smiled down at the floor sadly, keeping her eyes averted from the nurses' station at which a certain blonde trauma surgeon was standing, filling out some blood forms. Her jaw clenched as she felt emotion building behind her eyes and she quickly cleared her throat.

"Please," he continued. "Please, Ms Campbell." He looked at her with wide eyes, helpless and scared, resigned. It was a look that said he had given up, that the addiction had won and that there was no fighting back against it. But it also had that sadness, that particular brand reserved only for those who were expecting the worst, so familiar in her job, the sadness that sighed, 'I don't want to die'. Serena recognised this, in the man's eyes, no matter how tiny that part of him was, and clung to it with all she could.

"It doesn't have to be like this," she started gently, daring to rest her hand on his. "There's still time. I could get you into a treatment programme today—"

"Another one?" He spat with half a laugh, turning away but still keeping his hand beneath hers.

"Yes, another one," she repeated firmly. "You might have given up, but I've got a long way to go yet. You _can_ get past this."

He shook his head, looking down at their hands and biting his lip. "There's no use," he sighed. "I can't do it. Just discharge me already, will you?"

She stared at him with a sigh, brushing her thumb over his knuckles and giving his hand a squeeze before standing up off the bed, and agreeing to let him go.

Her shoulders felt heavy as she flopped into her desk chair, resting her head into her hands and steeling herself against the despair she felt. He was so young, with so much potential wasted. Hearing another round of cheer from across the ward, she allowed herself to glance up and see him waving his arms around with the rest of the drunks before turning her face away, her eyes squeezing shut as she thought about all the time, the opportunities that she herself had wasted. There was her family, her daughter who she had worked too hard on her career to have time to build a close relationship with. There was her ex-husband; she had wasted so many years making excuses for his ways, allowing herself to feel worthless when really it was him that was the waste of space, undeserving of her time. And then there was the real thing that was playing on her mind, had been ever since they had kissed that very first time, on the floor of the operating theatre.

Berenice Griselda Wolfe.

She had wasted _so_ much with her. All the time she had spent wishing, praying for the nerve to voice her feelings, to just take the plunge and sod what other people say or think. And then when she had finally reached that point, Bernie left. Her heart was shattered. How could she forgive that?

It had been more than a month now since Bernie had finally returned from Ukraine. On the day, Serena had woken up with a sense of purpose that this was finally going to be sorted, kill or cure. But when she had arrived on the ward, and their eyes met for the first time in months, Serena couldn't do it. She had turned away and ran, and had been running ever since. She made sure that their shifts never overlapped if at all possible, and when they did she avoided their office at all costs, unable to bear the thought of having to hold a conversation with her. When a big trauma came in, and they were forced to work together, she avoided all contact, not looking her in the eye and remaining strictly professional in her manner. Raf had tried to talk sense into her on multiple occasions, saying that it was affecting the ward and the patients, but she just _couldn't_. Her heart ached too deeply.

But she was in love. She knew she was in love from the way her heart both soared and ached whenever anyone mentioned her name, from the butterflies of nerves and anticipation that swirled in her stomach whenever they inadvertently ended up alone in the lift together, from the way she just couldn't see a future with anyone else, even if they were to never speak again. And surely, if she loved her, there was no point in prolonging her own misery, denying herself what it was she really wanted?

"Trauma call!"

Morven's shout broke through her thoughts. She stood quickly, blinking away the memories and the regret and striding pointedly over to the trauma bay to prepare for the incoming patient.

"What've we got?"

Her heart faltered as she heard Bernie's voice behind the curtain, listening as Morven relayed the details of the red phone call.

"Female, mid thirties, multiple stab wounds."

"Right, we'll have to get her straight to theatre."

"It's all backed up." Serena stepped through the curtain, daring to speak directly to Bernie for what felt like the first time in years. "We'll have to open her up in here."

Bernie hesitated, holding her eye contact, her eyes widened in shock at Serena's sudden amicability. "Can we do that?"

"Well, you're the trauma surgeon." Serena couldn't resist that little quip. Bernie took a deep breath.

"Right, Morven, you scrub in. We'll do it in here. Serena, you assist?"

She looked up at her colleague questioningly. There were other surgeons around; usually, this would be an excuse for Serena to step back. But she couldn't stop thinking of Joshua Park, and all the time she had lost already to her own bitterness.

"Okay," she nodded quickly, holding Bernie's gaze momentarily before rushing off to prep for surgery and call for some emergency theatre supplies. Soon they were operating, working as one as they so often did, and still had in these past months of silence, but this felt different. Serena's outlook had shifted; she allowed herself the intimacy that came with working together on saving a life, instead of closing herself off to it. She allowed herself to _feel_.

"Good work," Bernie praised the team as the patient was finally wheeled away to the post-op ward. "All of you." She looked up at Serena with a small smile, an offering.

And Serena baulked.

"Excuse me, I should get back," she replied, quickly escaping back onto the ward.

Why couldn't she do it? Why couldn't she allow herself the luxury to forgive and forget? How could she allow herself to believe that Bernie wouldn't run away and hurt her again, that she could have changed?

"Ms Campbell!"

A voice sounded across the ward. She turned with a sigh.

"Yes, Mr Park, I will do your discharge sheet in just a moment."

"No, wait," she pleased. She stopped and walked over towards him.

"What's the matter?" She asked, trying to keep her voice patient when all she really wanted to do was go home and hide. He hesitated, and she raised her eyebrows in intrigue.

"Just…" He trailed off, looking around nervously, at the other drunks. She noticed this and stepped closer to him, pulling the curtain behind her.

"Everything alright?" She asked again, her brow furrowing. His hand tightened its grip on his bedsheets, and she saw his jaw clenched.

"I'll have the op," he muttered, his face contorted with self control. "Just get me into this detox, will you?" She saw the fear in his expression, and let out a deep breath, a small smile creeping onto her lips.

"Okay," she said gently, her hand coming down to squeeze his. "I'll make some calls. I'll get you booked in for that op as soon as possible and in the meantime make the staff are aware you're detoxing, alright?"

He nodded sharply, nibbling on his bottom lip. "What if I fail again?" He whispered, his eyes darting back and forth between Serena's hand on his and the closed curtain around them.

She sighed, perching on the edge of his bed. "There are always going to be little slip ups, relapses," she began slowly. "But you've got to remember the big picture. One momentary lapse of judgement or control doesn't have to be the end. There will always be people around to help you get back on track, and you will. We understand that it's hard to keep on the wagon and we're not going to give up on you, I promise that."

He took a deep breath, steadying. "Thank you, Ms Campbell," he said eventually. "For doing this, for giving me another chance. I don't think many doctors would have persevered this much, with the amount of times I've been in here."

She smiled. "Well," she replied, standing and drawing back the curtain. "Prove them all wrong. Prove to those miserable old buggers that second chances are worth it, that people can change."

Serena froze, realising the hypocrisy of her words. _Second chances are worth it. People can change_. She saw Bernie across the ward, her face blank as she finished the paperwork on the trauma case, her lips downturned by default and the dark rings under her eyes. Had she ever stopped to wonder how she was, since she had got back? Was she in contact with her children? How was the divorce going? Where was she living? Where was she spending Christmas? Her heart twisted. The woman she loved, the woman who had turned her life upside down and inside out, deserved better, she realised. She deserved a second chance, yes, but most of all, she deserved someone to care.

For the remainder of the shift, Serena concentrated on getting Mr Park into surgery and making all the necessary arrangements for his rehab when he was out of recovery. She made sure he went for his post-op on Keller, knowing that Essie was working tomorrow and that he would get the best care there. By the time she was finishing her shift, she was exhausted, both from the busy work and by the niggling in the back of her mind that she should talk to Bernie.

She was just packing her laptop and some admin files into her satchel when Bernie came into the office for her coat. Her breath caught in her throat as she willed herself to say something, for either of them to just break this wedge that was stuck between them. But she couldn't bring herself to open her mouth. What could she possibly say?

Bernie lifted her coat from the hanger behind her chair, her eyes downcast as she did so, avoiding looking at Serena. She looked so _sad_ , it broke Serena's heart. But still she couldn't speak. Would Bernie even want to forgive her, after she had put her through all this?

"Merry Christmas," Bernie murmured as she opened the door, her head jolting in Serena's general direction but not daring to make eye contact. She made to leave.

"Bernie, wait," Serena suddenly called, as she was half way through the door. Bernie turned around, her eyes wide. Serena bit the inside of her cheeks, wanting to say a thousand things but unable to think of the words. Instead, she simply made an offer. "Albies?"

Bernie's face lit slightly, her eyes softening their guard somewhat and her shoulders relaxing. She simply nodded. Serena smiled gratitude, grabbing her coat from the back of her chair and shrugging it on, before walking with her colleague in a semi-awkward silence to Albies.

* * *

When they arrived, Albies was full to the brim. It was Christmas Eve, after all. Many of the other staff were in there, and both of them took the time to wish a Happy Christmas to their friends. Serena thought she saw a glint in Dominic's eye as he embraced Bernie, looking to Serena and back to Bernie with his eyebrow raised in question. Bernie quickly swatted him away, and Serena dismissed it. She had spoken with Raf about their relationship, after all. She couldn't judge Bernie for needing someone to lay off on too, despite the fact that she had chosen the biggest gossip in Holby to do so. She shook her head. _No more hypocrisy_ , she reminded herself, as they took to their stools at the bar and ordered a bottle of Shiraz to share. _Everyone deserves a second chance._

For the first couple of glasses, their conversation was restricted to awkward comments about the weather, or enquiries of "Oh, what shifts have you got on over the festive period? Oh dear, drew the short straw there!" Even though they both were more than aware of one another's positions on the rota. When Bernie had disappeared off to the toilet, about half an hour after their arrival, Serena had half expected her not to come back, though she had left her handbag on the chair. It took her a good ten minutes to return, though, and when she did… was that a new lipstick?

"Sorry, um," she mumbled as she sat down, refilling her glass. "There was a queue."

Serena pushed her glass towards her, prompting her to pour the remainder of the bottle into it. They drank in silence again, Bernie toying with the stem of her glass.

"Serena, I—" She faltered, her eyes seemingly unable to tear away from the crimson liquid swirling in her glass. "I'm sorry," she choked out, glancing up to see Serena staring at her wistfully.

Serena paused. "I'm sorry too," she replied, looking back down at her glass with a sigh. "I shouldn't have been so… unreasonable."

Bernie shook her head sadly. "You had every right," she assured. "It was me who was unreasonable, walking out like that, never getting in touch."

"So why didn't you? Get in touch?" Serena asked, her fingers pinching the stem of her wine glass tighter, her eyes averted. "I sent you texts, emails—"

"I wanted to reply, I did, I just…" She waved her hand in the air, as if grasping for the right words. "I panicked." She met Serena's eyes, reassuring her that she was finally telling the truth. "I didn't know what to say or how to explain or… anything. I couldn't bear you telling me to sod off, or whatever." She laughed nervously.

"I wouldn't have done that," Serena said quietly, folding her hands in her lap. "I wouldn't have cared what you said, I don't think. I just wanted to know that you didn't… didn't hate me, for some reason."

Bernie's hand shot out to cover Serena's, her brow furrowing. "Of course not!" She gasped. "I'd never hate you, Serena, for anything. You have to believe that. This was about my wrongdoing, not yours."

Serena hesitated, her eyes on their joined hands in her lap. "Truce?" She murmured eventually, the corner of her mouth turning upwards slightly at the echo of her words all those months ago, when she had been entirely unaware of the turn their relationship, and her life, would take.

Bernie smiled warmly, picking up her glass and holding it up to her. "Truce," she repeated. Serena picked up her glass too, clinking it against Bernie's.

"Another bottle?" Bernie asked, somewhat tentatively, her eyes flicking to the empty bottle on the bar. Serena glanced at her watch. 9pm. She'd have to call Jason and tell him not to wait up.

"Well, it is Christmas Eve, I suppose," Serena grinned, pulling her phone out of her bag whilst Bernie ordered the next bottle.

After that, it was as though they had never really been apart. They chatted animatedly, Bernie telling her about all the weird and wonderful things she done in Ukraine and Serena filling her in on all she and Jason had been up to since she had been away. They finished that bottle, and another, and when Sacha and Dom managed to convince the bar staff to get the karaoke out neither of them had any hesitation in getting up there and singing a duet to _Voulez-Vouz_.

When the bell rang for last orders at eleven o'clock, they were sad to see the night end, and stumbled out of the door arm in arm, wrapped up and braced against the cold as they attempted to walk home without either of them falling over and breaking something. The night was bright and clear, the sky alight with stars and a bright crescent moon. They giggled as they walked, feet sliding on the frosty pavement as they continued through the city, to the neighbourhood where they both lived.

"Hang on a minute," Bernie said through chattering teeth as they stopped on the bridge over the canal, not far from their homes. Serena turned around to face her with a grin, wobbling slightly as her feet skidded.

"Everything alright?" She asked, still holding onto her arm for support as they both took in the sight around them. The banks of the canal were lit up with bright, twinkling fairy lights, making the smooth water shimmer beautifully. There were few people around, seeing as it was so late, and the air was quiet but for the odd car passing by, music spilling from some unknown nightclub a few streets away, or the occasional siren in the distance.

"Of course," Bernie replied on a breath, her eyes scanning the city around them. "Just… you forget how beautiful Holby can be, don't you, being cooped up with stabbings and RTCs all day." She smiled drunkenly, and Serena turned her head to watch as a boat glided along the water.

"Yes," she sighed eventually, her grip tightening on Bernie's arm, pulling her closer to her so that Bernie's arms by default came up around her, pulling her in a warm embrace. "It really is quite something."

Bernie took a breath. "I missed it," she began, hesitating. "I missed you." She turned her head back to meet Serena's eyes just in time to see her expression falter at the intimacy of her words. Her gaze was so intense, so penetrating, so longing, that Bernie found it too much to handle all at once, and quickly turned her head back to the stars.

"You know," she reminisced, trembling slightly with recollection and the winter wind that burnt her cheeks. "It crazy how opposite this year has turned out to be. If you had told me this time last year that I'd be standing here, working for the NHS and, though it pains me to admit it, quite enjoying it, minus the paperwork, having left the army, blown up by an IED, left my husband, out of touch with my children, I'd have said you were barking mad." She laughed, her breath coming out in a cloud of condensation that Serena watched swirl and fizzle out with fascination. "It's been shit, really, hasn't it? This year?"

Serena cleared her throat, her arms slipping unconsciously around Bernie's waist. "I've had better, I have to say." Her speech was calculated, measured, unsure of just what it was Bernie was trying to say and all too aware of just how close they had come to stand, almost without even intending to. "Arthur dying…" She trailed off, her chest tightening with grief. "It's been hard."

They were both silent for a couple of moments, reflecting on the year gone by, all the heartache it contained. Serena was aware that Bernie was about to speak almost a minute before she did so, noticing how her breath caught in her throat.

"It's not all been bad, though," she continued, avoiding Serena's gaze. "I mean, I did meet you, after all."

Serena chuckled, her arms squeezing Bernie in jest. "Yes, and then moving over a thousand miles away to escape me," she joked. "Way to show a girl how much she means to you…"

Bernie stopped, missing the tone of Serena's words and remaining sombre. "I don't think I'll ever stop regretting that," she started, looking down at the pavement beside them, stopping momentarily to collect her thoughts. "You know, way back when I first moved here, when… when Alex resurfaced, I said to Dr Copeland how I was a coward, how my life could be so wonderful if only I was brave enough." Serena's stomach clenched slightly at the mention of Alex's name, but she remained silent, allowing Bernie to continue. "After I said that, he asked me if I was going to be brave enough now, and I said that I was. I told Alex this too. I said… I said that I wasn't going to be a coward any more. But I was wrong." She stopped, clearing her throat. "I've spent so much time running from the things that could make me happy, all for fear of the pain I would cause when I inevitably mucked it up." Her eyes fell on Serena's, who was gazing up at her with a curious frown. "But not any more," she promised firmly, with a nod. "I _will_ be brave. No more running. No more looking back and thinking what could have been." She paused for a moment, before allowing herself to grin. "Next year is going to be better, I can feel it. This is going to be our year."

She smiled warmly at the shorter woman in her arms, who returned her gaze with a small smirk.

"'Our' year?" She asked, eyebrow raised questioningly. Bernie froze, her mouth opening to correct herself, to take back her words.

 _Not this year._

She held her breath, her eyes blinking tensely against her own fear. _I will be brave. No more missed opportunities. No more running._

"Yes," she replied eventually, her eyes flickering downwards before returning to Serena's eyes and praying for her voice not to crack. "Our year."

Across the water, the first chimes of Holby Cathedral sounded for midnight. Both jumped slightly, but neither broke their gaze. Now or never.

It was Bernie who closed the gap between them; it had to be, after all that had happened. But the moment that her lips met Serena's, their warm breaths uniting, Serena let go. There was no hesitance, like when they had first kissed in theatre. There was no rush, as there had been when Bernie had received the offer to go to Ukraine. Serena was completely ready for it, completely comfortable with this woman and the way she made her feel, and she pulled her closer softly, gently, as their lips moved together with all the tenderness in her soul, her heart fluttering with content at finally being able to enjoy the woman she loved, with all the time in the world. She tugged Bernie's bottom lip into her mouth, her tongue deftly poking out to taste the combination of wine and the delicious flavour that was so exclusively _Bernie_ and… apples? The older woman trailed her hands up Serena's spine to the back of her neck, her gloved fingers gently rubbing circles as the kiss deepened, their bodies flush against one another, rocking gently back and forth as they became more hungry and desperate and needy until they were forced to break apart, each gasping for breath, foreheads resting together as they grinned in elation.

"Have you been eating apples?" Serena had to ask, laughter in her tone.

Bernie giggled, wiping the edge of her mouth with her thumb. "Uh… Dominic cornered me in Albies when I went to the loo, said I looked a fright and told me off for not making enough of an effort trying to win you back, but all him and Essie could find between them was some face powder - which sent me into a sneezing fit - and some apple chapstick."

"Good old Dominic," Serena chuckled. "But I have to say, I was finding you quite irresistible enough anyway."

She closed the gap between them again, this time open mouthed and gluttonous as she devoured her, biting and licking and tasting and consuming and eliciting the most delightful moans and whimpers from the woman before her until both of their knees were weak and their lips red raw.

"Home?" Serena panted against Bernie's lips, her fingers tight on her jacket as she steadied herself.

"Home," Bernie agreed with a nod, her breathing still unsteady as she stood back and allowed her arms to drop to Serena's sides.

"Merry Christmas, Serena."

"Merry Christmas, Bernie."


	2. Happy Christmas, Your Arse!

**Angst angst angst**

* * *

They spent the entire festive period together, that year. On Christmas morning, they had discussed Bernie leaving and coming back later in the day, nervous of what Jason's reaction would be to her being there so suddenly, but just she was about to leave he came bursting into Serena's room in his dressing gown, acknowledging her with a simple 'Hello Bernie' before announcing that it was past time for him to open his all his presents. The two women shared a relieved glance, partly at his being so blindly accepting and partly at the fact that he hadn't burst in five minutes earlier and caught them in rather a compromising position on Serena's dressing table chair. True to his nature, the only thing that Jason did take issue with was the fact that Bernie hadn't brought and Christmas presents with her, and she promised that she had simply left his at home and would drop it round on Boxing Day after her early shift.

The rest of the year flew by in a haze. They were so wrapped up in one another, so violently and irrevocably in love that it was impossible to care about anything else. By June, they had moved in together. By August, Jason was calling Bernie 'Auntie'. By October, Bernie was considering proposing.

But then she got the call.

She would be lying if she said that she hadn't expected it. She was a soldier, had been for most of her adult life. It was in her blood, so she knew how these things went.

It started with an attack, escalated by an ill-thought out retaliation. Before anyone could stop to think otherwise, ground troops were brought in, and before anyone could halt it, they realised they were out of their depth.

It was no secret to anyone that Bernie was one of the most esteemed front-line trauma surgeons Britain had ever encountered, least of all to herself, and so each night as she watched the ten o'clock news bulletin, Serena nestled half asleep in her arms, her chest clenched with fear. They were losing. Even as the reporter tried to present the home forces in a positive light, she could see it, could read it in his face. Troops diminished. A couple lost rose to a dozen, to fifty, to a hundred, until she could hardly bare to watch as the names rolled across the screen. She knew, from her training and experience, that these were becoming desperate times. She knew that they would be re-recruiting all they could. No one wanted to lead a conscription army.

On the 16th November 2017, her mobile rang during surgery. Number withheld. She ignored it, expecting it to be a cold caller, but that evening whilst she was in the car it rang again. Again, she missed it, her handsfree disconnected after Jason had used it to put on some historical podcast the day before. The third time they rang she was in the shower, and didn't even bother drying her hands before grabbing the phone and greeting the caller, her stomach immediately dropping cold as she heard the official tone of her old commander.

"I've been medically discharged," she reasoned, her head screaming at her for being so cowardly, so disloyal to her country in not wanting to leave. Not wanting to leave Serena.

He let out a husky breath. "You know we wouldn't be asking if there was any other choice," he replied simply, genuine sympathy in his words. "We just need you for six months whilst we have time to train some more ground forces and you have time to oversee the new medical corps. Then you'll be out of there, I promise."

For more than a week, she had kept it to herself, her mind whirring on what to do, how to handle this. But there was only one option, really. She had a duty to her country and her comrades. She had to go.

But how could she tell Serena? How could she possibly reassure her, after all that the media had reported and they both knew was only the tip of the iceberg?

Perhaps if she had chosen her words differently, had approached her at a different time, things would have gone better.

"Serena, can we talk?"

It was a Saturday at the end of November. Serena had been out for the day with Elinor, and Bernie had spent the duration pacing back and forth in their living room, thinking over and over just how she would tell Serena that she was going to such a volatile area. How could she possibly reassure her? She thought of Serena alone all those months, her gut permanently twisted with worry as she waited for the phone call, the knock at the door, the letter. Would it progress so far, get so bleak that they would only have the manpower to deliver the news via letter? Or would an email suffice, these days?

She jumped half out of her skin when she heard Serena's car pull up onto the drive. She steeled herself. _Just… say it_.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you up," Serena smiled as she wiped her feet on the front door mat, pulling off her scarf as she did so. "Everything alright?"

"Yes, of course," Bernie replied almost instantly. She halted herself. "Actually… just… come sit down with me, for a minute." She gestured through the doorway to the kitchen.

Serena frowned at her with half a smile. "That doesn't sound too good." She hung up her coat in the hallway, her bag landing on the floor with a soft thud. Though Bernie could sense she felt nervous, she knew that Serena wasn't worried about what she had to say. They had always said to one another, throughout their entire relationship, that nothing could tear them apart. After being so ridiculous with their feelings the year before, wasting all that time that they could have been together, they had agreed they would never allow themselves to do that again, to let their own stubbornness drive them apart. And it had worked perfectly. In almost a year of being together, they were yet to have a proper argument. Sure, they had minor disagreements, but these were resolved as quickly as they started. Usually.

By the time Serena had made her way through the doorway Bernie was already sat at the kitchen table, her hands clasped together and cheeks white.

"I'll just get us a nice glass—"

"No, don't," Bernie interrupted hastily. "Just sit down, please. I have something I need to say."

Serena hesitated, frowning again, before sighing and taking the seat opposite her.

"Okay," she said simply, an eyebrow raised. "I'm listening."

Bernie opened her mouth, then quickly closed it again. What words to choose? She took a deep breath, her eyes falling on her white knuckles.

"I… You know the…" She sighed at herself, her eyes squeezing shut tight. _Just say it_.

"I've had a phone call. From my old commander."

Serena paused. "Oh?" She said evenly, her face expressionless. Bernie continued, her breath catching in her throat.

"You've seen in the news the er… situation." She looked up. "It's really bad, Serena. More serious than they make out. More serious than even my commander was letting on."

Serena nodded, her eyes searching Bernie's face, no doubt in denial of what she was about to say.

"Well, they're… as you know they're running out of resources," she rambled, her fingers squeezing tight. Her chest tightened. "They want me back."

She looked nervously up at the woman sitting across from her. Serena was unflinching, frozen.

"What, advising?"

"No," Bernie replied instantly. "On the ground. Six months helping to train new medics in the field."

She held Serena's gaze for what felt like a century, watching for any sort of reaction. Grief? Shock? Fear? Serena was one of the most level-headed people she had even known. She knew that her mind would be whirring through all the possible outcomes of this. She knew that she would be picturing IEDs, injuries, funerals, as Bernie had herself when she had received the call. What she didn't expect, however, was what Serena said next.

"Well, I hope you told them where to stick it."

Bernie raised her eyebrows, her stomach dropping. She opened her mouth to speak, and Serena recognised that look instantly.

"What, you're not honestly considering going, are you?" She asked incredulously, her chair scraping as she leaned forwards intently, her eyes penetrating.

"I— I have to," Bernie stammered, her brow furrowing. "I'm needed. Surely you can—"

Serena huffed out a breath, her eyes raising to the ceiling exasperatedly. "And what about here? The trauma unit, the hospital needs you. _I_ need you."

Bernie fumbled for her words. "It's only for six months, whilst I train them," she tried to stand her ground, but her voice wobbled. "After that I'll get a complete discharge. Nothing more, ever."

Serena stood abruptly, turning round to the cabinet above the microwave for a glass and snatching a half-empty bottle of wine from beside the sink. "I can't believe you'd even give this a thought, Bernie," she muttered through gritted teeth, her hand shaking as she poured herself a generous measure of Shiraz. "After all we've been through. You're not even in a fit state to join the army, you had a medical discharge for Christ's sake!"

"So they wouldn't be asking me if it wasn't absolutely necessary," Bernie explained, standing too. "It's only for six months, why are you making such a big deal out of this—"

"Because you'll die, Bernie!"

Serena slammed down the now empty Shiraz bottle on the counter with a loud clatter that made both of them jump. Bernie froze. Serena took a large swig of her wine, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she did so and her shoulders tight.

"I," Bernie began, her voice soft in the silence. "I have to do this, Serena. I have a duty. To my comrades, to my country… to you. Do you realise just how far this could escalate if we don't gather all the force that we have—"

"I can't listen to this," Serena butted in, her voice tight. "You've clearly made up your mind already, without me. It's good to know where I really stand."

Bernie sighed, her shoulders falling as she stepped tentatively towards the woman she loved. "That's not fair, Serena. You know it isn't."

But Serena wouldn't budge. She stares into her glass, avoiding Bernie's gaze entirely. "I'm going to bed," she announced finally, discarding it on the kitchen counter. "Feel free to make use of the sofa. You'll need to get used to sleeping rough again, especially, with your back, soldier," she added bitterly. She stormed past Bernie, making a point of allowing their shoulders to collide as they did so. Bernie caught her wrist.

"Serena," she whispered, looking up at her with tears rapidly threatening to form in her eyes. "Please… please, don't."

Serena paused for a few moments, her breaths loud in the otherwise silent kitchen. Just as Bernie thought she might be getting through to her, she felt Serena snatching her arm away, and cast her eyes downwards, the first tears of many beginning to fall as she listened to the hard thuds of Serena's footsteps on the stairs and the slamming of the bedroom door.

—

The next morning, they acted as if nothing had happened. They sat and had breakfast with Jason, as usual, and drove to work together. Serena even kissed Bernie on the cheek as they walked in, before they separated for a meeting. But there was a new air between them, a thickness. Their eyes couldn't meet, and they kept to safe topics. And again, in the evening, Bernie remained on the sofa without a word. Perhaps that was where it went wrong, passed the threshold between a petty argument and a serious separation, denying one another the connection, the intimacy that came with sharing a sleeping space.

But the amicability could only last so long. It started with a couple of little digs. Joking about her military background, about the mundaneness of the NHS and how she was only 'slumming it' with 'all us mere mortals' working there. Then she started to get more personal. Talk of the affair, clearly insinuating that she would be the first to jump into bed with one of her comrades the second she had chance, once back in the field. Bernie had overheard her talking, once, with Morven, gossiping about someone in radiology who had taken back their husband after he had cheated with yet another woman. "Once a cheat, always a cheat, that's what I say," Serena had said pointedly. "They don't care about us, not really. It's all about the thrill, the adrenaline." She would be lying if she said that she hadn't shed a tear at that.

Then came the arguments, blazing, furious rows over things as insignificant as leaving a mug in the living room overnight. _Well it wouldn't matter much to you anyway, would it, seeing as you're not going to be here much longer_. At first, Bernie had allowed it to wash over her, remained calm in trying to reason with Serena. But patience was a fragile thing, and it wasn't long before she was shouting back, slamming doors and clenching fists and grinding teeth. They could barely stand to be in the same room as one another without beginning a fight. Petty comments became the norm. Jason stayed in his room. Bernie worked all the hours she could, even sleeping in the on call room for a couple of nights, just to get away.

—

 _Christmas Eve, 2017._

"Jason, darling, would you pass me pepper? This casserole hasn't nearly enough seasoning in it."

Bernie slammed her fork down abruptly, gritting her teeth and huffing out a deep breath, before shaking herself and continuing her meal.

"So, Jason," she began, a false air of cheeriness in her voice. "How was your day?"

"It was okay," Jason nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I watched a few documentaries, but there weren't many interesting ones on so I just watched the gaming channel instead. What about you?"

"Ah, you know me Jason," Bernie replied, pushing her fork through a lump of chicken. "Same old, same old. Paperwork and RTCs."

"You just can't wait to escape us, can you?" Serena interjected bitterly. Bernie sighed.

"That's not what I said."

"You implied it."

"I'm not implying anything, I'm just saying—"

"I'm finishing this in my room," Jason stood, lifting his plate and juice. Both women stilled, listening as he disappeared up the stairs, before continuing.

"You need to stop this, Serena, you're upsetting him."

" _I'm_ upsetting him? You started it."

"How did I start this? You're the one who can't resist a dig every five seconds!"

"Says you, little miss perfect."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Acting like you care about him, about any of us."

"Oh, here we go again. I've told you, I have to do this! I honestly cannot believe you're making such a ridiculous deal out of this, _still!"_

"Excuse me for giving a flying _fuck_ whether you live or not," Serena seethed, shaking her head and pushing her plate away from her. "Maybe I should just stop."

"Well why don't you then?!" Bernie raised her voice, tossing her knife and fork onto the plate roughly and standing to take it to the sink. "Give me some fucking peace!"

"Maybe I should just stop caring at all," Serena spat, folding her arms. "Why should I be sat miserable at home watching the news waiting for your name like some sad, devoted housewife whilst you're out there having the time of your life."

"Having the time of my life?" Bernie couldn't help shouting now. "It's a fucking war, Serena. There's nothing I could enjoy less. Do you really think I'd want anything to do with it if I had a choice?"

"Well you enjoyed it enough last time, from where I'm standing," she replied harshly. "How long will it be before you've shacked up with one of your comrades this time? Or have they recruited Alex again, to spare you the energy of finding a new one?"

"Don't be a bitch, Serena. It doesn't suit you."

"Look who's talking!" Serena cried, her hands balling into fists. "You know, I don't think I've ever known anyone be so cold as you, that could just leave their family like that without a—"

"I've had enough of this," Bernie announced, slamming her palms on the kitchen counter before turning around. "If you can't accept this—"

"Then it's better for all of us that you just piss off!" Serena yelled finally. They both fell silent, her words hitting both of them like a slap in the face. Bernie was the first to speak, her voice husky from shouting.

"Is that what you really want?" She asked quietly. Serena's face remained stony, silent and resolute. Bernie let out a shaky breath.

"Well," she muttered, her eyebrows raised sarcastically. "Merry Christmas."

She stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Half of her bags were already packed; she was to leave after Boxing Day anyway. Carelessly, she tipped the rest of her things into a large hold-all they kept on top of the wardrobe.

When she opened the side pocket to pack some toiletries, she found a small Polaroid, assumingly from the last time they had used the bag on a trip to Barcelona in early October. She sighed as she picked it out, taking in their appearance. They were stood at the front of the Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya, their backs to the city, eyes squinted against the sun. Bernie allowed the corner of her mouth to twitch up as she remembered how they had been feeling particularly affectionate that day, stealing kisses whenever they had a museum room to themselves and nearly getting caught on multiple occasions, leaving them both flushed both with the thrill and with the hysterical giggles they had gotten into when on the way out they noticed the security guard at the door had a screen with CCTV of every room, and had no doubt been watching them the entire time. In the photo, both of them had brilliantly rosy cheeks, damning smirks on their lips as they fought back laughter as the photographer took the shot. She remembered his confusion as they both collapsed onto each other as soon as the photo was taken, their eyes streaming and legs weak with laughter.

How quickly things change.

She took a deep breath, blinking back the moisture that was building behind her eyes and zipping the pocket shut, stuffing the photo back inside quickly before going to check that she had retrieved everything that she needed from the bathroom, before lugging her bags out onto the landing.

"Auntie Bernie?"

Jason's voice came quietly from the doorway to his room. He stood there with a frown, his shoulders slumped.

"Where are you going?"

Bernie stopped dead, her heart twisting, her eyebrows knitted together sadly.

"I've got to go, Jason," she explained, stepping across to him. "I'm going back to the army, remember?"

"But I thought you were staying for Christmas?"

"I was Jason, but... I've had a change of plan. I need to leave tonight."

He hung his head gloomily. "Have I done something wrong?" He fretted. "Is this because I keep eating my dinner upstairs and not with you and Auntie Serena?"

Bernie's chest constricted. "No," she said firmly, reaching out and squeezing his arm reassuringly. "This is nothing to do with you, Jason. You are not to blame for this in the slightest. It's just..." She paused, deciding that it was best not to go into her and Serena's relationship. "My commanding officer called and they're leaving earlier," she lied, clearing her throat. "So I have to go tonight. But you can still have a wonderful Christmas without me. And you've got my email address, and when I know where I'm stationed I'll send you my postal address too, if you like?"

"Yes, please," he perked up slightly. "Can I come and visit you?"

"No, no, Jason," she replied, shaking her head. "You need to stay here and look after your Auntie Serena. She needs you. Promise me you'll do that?"

"I will." He nodded eagerly. His face fell. "What about my presents?"

She gave him a wobbly smile. "Don't worry about that, Jason," she reassured fondly. "They're all under the tree. The ones in blue are from me."

"But what about my present for you?" He asked. "You can't open it until Christmas Day."

"I know, Jason," she reasoned, her hand reaching out to squeeze his arm. "How about I take it with me?"

He heaved a heavy sigh. "Okay," he agreed, his tone sorrowful. "Promise you won't open it?"

"I promise." She offered him a warm smile, before pulling him into a tight embrace. "I love you," she murmured into his ear. "Now, you make sure to look after your Auntie Serena for me, won't you?"

"I did promise you," he replied matter-of-factly. She smiled, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away.

"Merry Christmas, Jason."

"Merry Christmas, Auntie Bernie."

Bernie felt tears stinging in her eyes, but quickly blinked them away. She watched as Jason disappeared back into his bedroom, her heart stopping momentarily as the door clicked shut, before carrying all her belongings downstairs and loading up the car. She didn't hear a word from Serena throughout, though she passed the kitchen doorway multiple times, and soon she was all set to go. With a heavy heart, she fumbled about under the tree for Jason's present to her, eventually finding a small, scruffily-wrapped package with her name in large letters on the label. She quickly put it into her bag, before straightening herself, clearing her throat and walking with purpose to the kitchen doorway.

"I'm leaving now," she announced to the silence. Serena didn't turn around, her shoulders tenses, fingers fiddling with a tissue. Bernie held her breath, waiting for any kind of response. None came.

"Goodbye, Serena."

She turned to leave, making her way down the hall, her hand on the door.

"Bernie," Serena's voice was husky, thick. Bernie froze. It was a few moments before she spoke again.

"Just..." Serena took a shaky breath. "Just... stay safe, will you?"

A tear spilled from Bernie's left eye. She could go back. Gather her into her arms. Whisper she was sorry. Tell her it would be okay. But what difference would that make? It wouldn't stop her from going away. And could she really face Serena again, after all that had been said?

She pushed down on the handle, the door slamming closed behind her.

By the time she was on the outskirts of Holby, Bernie couldn't see the road for tears. She pulled over, murmuring angrily that she should pull herself together.

The first chimes of Holby Cathedral sounded for Christmas Day.

She looked over at her handbag in the passenger seat, remembering her promise to Jason. _Don't open it until Christmas Day_. She took a deep breath, reaching over for the small package with trembling fingers and unwrapping it carefully, as though it would dissipate before her very eyes with one jolt.

It was a Swiss Army knife, with a red leather handle and gold detail. She smiled at the thought, turning it over in her hands. On the shaft, she noticed some engraving, and switched on the small light above her to read it.

 _To Auntie Bernie, From Jason Haynes_

It was the first time she allowed herself to cry. Properly. Not a couple of tears escaping, not a few shaky breaths. Deep, guttural sobs that shook her very core until her chest ached and her face was raw. She wanted to turn back, to retract everything that she had said.

For the first time in her life, she would have done anything not to be in the army.

But it was too late.

She mentally scolded herself for being so ridiculous. She had to do this, she had a duty to her friends, her country.

She pushed down the handbrake, and continued on the motorway, to her fate.

* * *

 **The next chapter might be boxing day because I have accidentally had too much to drink.**

 **Merry Christmasss!xoxoxo**


	3. You Took My Dreams From Me

**Sorry this is so late, I've been trying to finish this but it just keeps getting longer and longer, so to avoid the final chapter being 9000 words I've split it. Next one will hopefully be up by the end of the week. Enjoy :)**

* * *

In the months that followed, time stopped for Serena. Fretful days and sleepless nights blended into one, her heart on permanent alert for the moment that she would receive the phone call, the email, the newsflash that read Bernie's name. When she did sleep, her dreams were littered with woeful imaginings of life in the field, of her love being blown up, shot, or captured. Often, she woke up in a sweat, nausea clawing at her stomach and her heart racing at an almost dangerous pace. She cried a lot too, when she was alone in the house or in bed at night, her fingers reaching into the empty space beside her, desperately willing it all to be a nightmare. And Bernie would take her hand, and pull her close, and envelop her so tightly that in that moment there was nothing in the world other than them and their love.

But it wasn't a nightmare. Bernie was gone. She had chosen to leave, and Serena had to accept that.

What she couldn't accept, was _why_.

How could she so readily leave her, again? After Kiev, she had thought that that was it; Bernie had realised the error of her ways and didn't ever want to feel that lonely, that disjointed ever again. But one call from the army and she was off. Had she ever stopped to think about how _she_ felt, to think about just how unbearable it would be for Serena to watch the news every night and see the atrocities happening, for her to lose the love of her life and not even be able to hold her hand, to say goodbye? She was used to leaving her family behind, yes, but Serena had thought that she was different. She had fallen out of love with Marcus, after all, so it must have been easier to leave him. Serena just couldn't shake the feeling that Bernie's feelings for her were an illusion, and that she didn't _really_ care for her at all.

So when she received an email from Bernie, three weeks after her departure, Serena had no second thoughts about ignoring it. Bernie had ignored her emails whilst she was in Ukraine, after all. _How are things back home?_ The email read. _I'm being posted at one of the main bases on the outskirts of the city and security is high so I won't be able to access the internet whilst I'm there, but I have included the postal address for family correspondence below, if you'd like to reply. I'm sorry I left as I did, I really am. I hope that you can forgive me. But I stand by my decision…_ She went on to ask more questions about the hospital, about Elinor, about general daily life. She even had the nerve to tell Serena she loved her, but Serena was having none of it. She quickly clicked delete, before the emotion building in her chest threatened to explode, and resumed her paperwork.

Bernie sent her a letter, shortly after that, again apologising and telling her about what she was doing out there. Her tone was fairly upbeat, making Serena's skin crawl. She really was having the time of her life.

She binned that letter. And the three after it, until she assumed Bernie had given up and was getting on with her life out there. _Why would she need me?_ Serena thought bitterly. _She has her comrades now._

But two months before Bernie was scheduled to be discharged, whilst clearing out Jason's bedroom, Serena noticed a brown envelope, military issue, with Bernie's distinctive, irritatingly messy handwriting on the front. She froze. Had Jason been taking her mail? But on closer inspection, she noticed the letter was addressed very clearly to him.

Her heart hammered. Could she really read it? All her adult life, she had promised herself that she would never be the sort of parent that didn't respect their children's right to privacy. Even if it was left open on her bedroom floor, she would never allow herself to read even a word of Elinor's diary, or anything else that she herself would not have wanted her own mother to read. But this was different, wasn't it? She just wanted to know that Bernie was okay, that she was still alive and breathing. Surely there was no harm in that?

Quickly, before she could lose her nerve, she opened the letter.

 _Dear Jason,_

 _Thank you so much for your last letter, and the pick and mix sweets you sent! I shared them with some of the children in the hospital here, I hope you don't mind. It was very sweet of you, especially remembering all my favourites!_

 _Sorry to hear that your Auntie Serena is being grumpy with you again, try not to take it too personally. She loves you very much, so I'm sure it's nothing you've done wrong. She's probably just very stressed with work at the moment. Why don't you run her a nice hot bath one night, or cook her a nice meal? That ought to cheer her up a bit. There's some really nice lavender bath salts she likes from that fancy cosmetics shop in town. If you get some of those for her, I'll be happy to reimburse you once I'm home. But really, try not to get too worried about it. You're her nephew and she loves you more than anything in the world._

 _I've been really busy this week. They've sent five new medics for us to begin training, which might not sound a lot but in a busy field hospital like this it really is quite a challenge. Since I'm coming home soon, I'm also having to train the medics that were already here in how to train new medics, confusing I know! But we all get on really well and we have a really strong team. We have some exciting new equipment coming in the next couple of weeks that I know you'd be interested in too, so I'll tell you all about it when I get home!_

 _Thank you again for your lovely letter, I really do love hearing from you! I miss you a lot, and your Auntie Serena. I think I've counted sixty-one days until I leave now, so we're getting closer. In the meantime, look after yourself, and Auntie Serena! And I hope everything goes okay with this new girl you met at chess club, let me know when you've asked her out, I know she'll be thrilled!_

 _Lots of love,_

 _Auntie Bernie_

 _xxxx_

Serena closed her eyes against tears, the letter trembling in her hands. She hadn't forgotten her, then. For all these months, Serena had been genuinely convinced that Bernie didn't love her, or even Jason, really. She had been completely unaware that they had stayed in touch. But now the love Bernie had for them both shone through her words like a supernova, blazing almost too bright to look at and impossible to ignore. And Serena felt so _stupid_. Why hadn't she listened to what Bernie had to say, looked past her own hurt and stopped to notice how Bernie might miss her too, that their separation might in fact be equally hard for her?

Suddenly, Serena heard a clatter of the front door opening as Jason arrived home. She hastily stuffed the letter back inside the envelope, wiping a stray tear from beneath her eye with the pad of her thumb before forcing herself to brighten up as she went to greet her nephew.

—

 _2nd July, 2018._

 _Open. Closed. No, no. Leave it open. But maybe I should leave it closed..._

Serena fiddled with the buttons on her new blouse, her brow furrowing as she noticed a strand of her fringe out of place. She patted it down hurriedly, wetting her fingers with the tip of her tongue and trying again when it wouldn't budge before storming into the bathroom and clipping it off in a huff. Today was not the day for anything to be out of place. Today, she needed to be perfect.

She felt jumpy and tense as she drove to work, her fingers drumming impatiently against the steering wheel at each traffic light, her foot tapping nervously on the floor next to the clutch. It took her almost ten minutes to will herself to get out of the car, repeatedly checking her makeup in the rearview mirror and glancing at the clock on the dashboard. What time would Bernie arrive? She knew that she had a meeting with Hanssen first thing. Would she go straight there, or would she stop to drop off her things in their office beforehand? Looking around, Serena couldn't see Bernie's car anywhere, so assumed she must be getting in later, unless she had taken the bus...

 _TAP. TAP. TAP._

Serena jumped half out of her skin as Fletch knocked on the car window beside her, his face twisted into his usual cheery grin. She took a deep breath. _This is it_.

"Morning," Fletch greeted as she stepped out of the car. "Lovely day, innit?"

"Quite," Serena agreed, casting her eyes upwards at the clear blue summer sky as they began walking in. Fletch seemed to hold his breath, before continuing.

"So... Bernie's back today then," he said, an air of caution in his words. Whilst Bernie had been away, Serena had made sure to keep her private life out of conversation at work. But the NHS rumour mill, as ever, was going strong, so most of the staff had an inkling that something wasn't quite right between them.

"Ah, yes, of course... yes, she is," Serena stammered, before clearing her throat awkwardly. "She's just got a meeting with Hanssen first thing, then she should be back on the ward and raring to go."

Fletch smiled. "That's good," he replied as they neared the hospital door. "It'll be great to have her back, after all this time."

Serena agreed, hastily adding that she really should get on as he stopped for coffee. As she entered the office, she cast a lingering glance over to Bernie's empty chair. Before the day was out, she would be sat there again, infuriatingly beautiful and no doubt tanned from her travels. Serena had missed it, the simple act of gazing at her, taking in her whole appearance, studying her like a work of art. She wondered how long it would be before she was allowed to do that again.

After waiting in their office for half an hour, finishing some paperwork as she did so, she decided Bernie must be running late in her meeting with Hanssen, and so begrudgingly made her way out to the ward.

It was after lunchtime when she finally saw her, stood at the nurses station, her brow furrowed as she studied an X-ray.

Now, upon Bernie's return, Serena had expected her to appear a little different. She had spent the past six months in combat, after all, and sweltering heat. She had expected her hair to be a little lighter, her skin tanned, eyes tired. What she did not expect, however, was how utterly forsaken she looked, how completely detached from the world around her. Her shoulders, broadened through physical activity, were hunched and tense, solid, and her neck stiff. Her hands were brought close to her sides in fists, and her face... oh, her face. To someone who didn't know her so well, she might have passed off as that being her natural relaxed expression. But no, Serena knew her better, closer than that. Her face was darkened, not just with sun but with experience and hardship, and it turned Serena's stomach.

Tentatively, she stepped towards where she was standing, her voice coming out more feeble than intended as she greeted her.

"Bernie."

The older woman looked round sharply, her face softening slightly as she saw her companion for the first time since she had left, but almost as quickly as they had dropped, her walls were up again.

"Serena," she nodded. She cast her eyes away. "Long time no see. Or speak."

Serena bit her cheeks, her heart pounding. "Yes, I," she began, wringing her hands together. "I... I hope you'll forgive me, I just didn't—"

"It's fine," Bernie butted in, shaking her head. "Really. It's done now."

Serena smiled, allowing some relief to creep into her chest. "So, how was it?" She asked stupidly, instantly regretting her words as Bernie's face dropped and she swallowed difficultly.

"It was abhorrent," she murmured, her jaw clenched and eyes threatening to water, despite herself. "It was despicable, it was repulsive, it was physically sickening." Her voice shook, her fingers trembling. "It was unlike anything I've ever experienced, or imagined experiencing, and I doubt I'll ever, ever get over it. So there you go." She turned and grabbed the x-ray off the board. "Not quite the 'time of my life', you were imagining, was it?"

"Bernie, I—"

"Trauma call!"

Bernie quickly stuffed the x-ray back into its sleeve, discarding it on a pile of notes before rushing over to where Fletch was waiting to relay details of the incoming patient. Serena stared after her, her heart clenching as she came to the crushing realisation that this was serious. Bernie wasn't going to forgive and forget, far from it, and the war had changed her. This wasn't like her missions in Afghanistan, like the work she had been used to over the years; this was war. Brutal, vicious, barbaric war. And Bernie, her Big Macho Army Medic, stronger than the two of them put together, was traumatised.

Serena turned away sadly, and got back to work.

—

Over the next couple of months, Bernie avoided Serena wherever possible. When she was trauma lead, she would choose Raf or Morven as her back-up, and made sure to do her paperwork anywhere other than their office. She kept her things in the general staff locker room and only ever entered their office for meeting purposes.

Serena, meanwhile, watched from afar as her best friend and love adjusted to civilian life, her arms itching with the urge to simply run over, wrap her in the tightest embrace she could muster and protect her from all that she had experienced whilst she was away. As she noticed her struggling to readjust to the different priorities and protocols of the NHS, Serena made sure that Bernie had minimal paperwork to do, sometimes staying hours after her shift to complete the extra for her, and made sure that she was steered away from any time wasters that may cause her to fly off the handle. On the occasions that she did lose her temper - whether it was with an F1 that was taking their relatively calm work environment for granted or with one of the nursing staff for anything as little as misplacing a scan - Serena would quietly take them to one side afterwards, reassure them that they were doing a fantastic job and explain that Bernie was feeling a little edgy recently, and not to take it too personally. She knew that Bernie simply needed some time to process what had happened out there and to adjust to the bureaucracy of the NHS once more, but she knew too that Bernie would never accept her help, and so turned to this background method of helping in order to alleviate the pressures of their work.

But one day, Bernie noticed.

Earlier in the day, one of the new F2s on the ward had accidentally ordered an extra test for a patient that they had not needed. Bernie had, for some reason, taken it upon herself to remind them, quite loudly and in front of the entire ward, that scans were costly and the NHS does not have an infinite supply of resources. Serena, as usual, took the F2 to one side as soon as Bernie had stormed off, gave them a gentle squeeze of the arm and told them to take it with a pinch of salt.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Serena froze, before giving the F2 a short nod, signalling for them to get on with their work. They scrambled away, and Serena turned around.

"Excuse me?" She feigned ignorance.

"How _dare_ you undermine my authority like that!" Bernie was raising her voice.

Serena shook her head shortly. "Can we not do this here?" She sighed, and rather than waiting for an answer brushed straight past Bernie to their office. The older woman followed, her jaw clenched.

"Close the door," Serena said calmly. Bernie slammed it shut.

"This is so typical of you, Serena," she ranted. "Always in the right, always second guessing _my_ decisions, making me look and feel like a fucking med student—"

"Bernie—"

"—Undermining me on a daily basis. I bet you were laughing, weren't you? Loving the free reign you got whilst I was out defending _your_ civil liberties—"

"Ms Wolfe—"

"Don't fucking 'Ms Wolfe' me, Serena Campbell. You've just fucking—"

"Berenice Griselda Wolfe will you just stop for one minute!" Serena thundered. Bernie stopped, her arms folding and nostrils flaring. Looking past her, Serena could see the eyes of the ward were on them. She stepped across to pull down the blinds.

"Sit down," she told Bernie, flicking a light switch as the room dimmed without the bright artificial lighting of the ward.

"No, thank you," Bernie replied stonily. "Say what you have to say. I need to get back to work."

Serena sighed, going back to her desk but staying stood. She swallowed thickly.

"How are you?" She began, her fingers knotting together uselessly, realising how daft she sounded.

"I'm not here for bloody counselling, Serena. Cut to the chase."

Sadness flashed across Serena's eyes. She cleared her throat. All she wanted to do was to reach out to her, squeeze her hand, pull her into an embrace, tell her it was okay. But no. Here, she was her colleague and she had a responsibility to approach her wellbeing professionally, with patient care as her top concern.

"Okay. In short: you _need_ to lay off the staff."

"What?" Bernie spat incredulously.

Serena stared at her. "Since your return you've been… let's just say you've been a little short-tempered towards the other members of staff. Now, it was acceptable for a while - we all know how hard it must be having to readjust after being in such an intense environment - but you're not there any more. You can't be kicking up a fuss over little things in front of the patients, and the staff deserve more respect than that. I can only defend you so far; some day, someone _will_ just go straight to Hanssen."

Bernie blinked at her. "Defend me?" She spat eventually, frowning. "Name one time—"

"Fine: just now when that F2 was just about to call their tutor about the way you spoke to them; last week when you went off on one in front of a patient and I had to explain to them that you were a veteran to stop them from making a formal complaint; the week before when you reduced that poor agency nurse to tears; staying after hours to complete the paperwork that you're seemingly too wrapped up in yourself to do. The list goes on!" Serena threw her arms up in the air pointedly.

Bernie paused, her mouth opening as if to say something but then quickly closing again. She held Serena's eye contact, both of them trembling slightly from anger and tension. Bernie cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "I'll be more considerate in future. I didn't realise I was so..." She trailed off.

"Acrimonious?" Serena offered, half joking. Bernie looked up at her with a guilty smile, and the tension dropped from Serena's shoulders slightly.

"Really, though," Serena started gently, sitting down in her chair. "How are you doing? Are you eating? Sleeping?"

Bernie barked out half a laugh, dropping into the chair next to the office door. "Sometimes," she answered evasively, taking a deep breath. "I'm getting there."

"It must be difficult to get back into the habit, without such a stringent routine?" Serena prompted, knotting her fingers together.

"Yes," Bernie nodded, avoiding Serena's gaze. She chuckled nervously again, as if mocking herself. "You know, it's strange. When I was out there, all I could think of was home, of getting back to..." She stopped, taking a shaky breath. Guilt pinched at Serena's stomach. "And now... You see, in the field, you're constantly surrounded by people, and you've all got something in common, got that unavoidable bond that comes with being in combat together, with being both supportive and pushing each other to your absolute limits. No matter how much you miss home, it's impossible to feel alone because you're all going through the same thing, you all understand. But here..." Her voice cracked slightly, and Serena could see her shaking herself mentally, telling herself to fight the emotion she saw as weakness. "Here, I'm completely alone. No one understands, not really. People are so cautious around me, so distant because all they think when they see me is of what I must have gone through whilst I was away and they don't want to bring it up, but that's all they see me as. There's nothing else to talk about, so they don't. Except Jason, of course." She looked up with a fond smile.

"Ah yes," Serena nodded. "He told me he'd seen you a couple of times since you were back."

"He's got no hesitation in asking me all about it." She shook her head. "I think the first question he asked me was how many people I'd killed out there. I tried to explain to him that it didn't quite work like that." Serena raised her eyebrows unconsciously, herself wondering if Bernie _had_ killed anyone, but quickly relaxed her expression again, not wanting Bernie to feel any judgement.

"But, to be quite honest," Bernie sighed, flopping back in her seat and running a hand over her face tiredly. "It's nice to be able to talk about it once in a while."

"Do you talk to Cam? And Charlotte?" Serena asked tentatively. Bernie grimaced.

"Nope, haven't spoken to them since I got back. They were as pissed off about me leaving as yo..." She hesitated, casting her eyes away. "I don't see anyone, only Jason. I tried looking at support groups for returned soldiers but it's all for people with post-traumatic stress and things along those lines and that's not what I'm going through. I just feel so… disjointed, out of place. If I just had a friend…" She faltered.

Serena looked at her sadly. This woman had turned her life upside down, inside out, altered her entire view of the universe. She had made her laugh, cry, scream, whisper, groan and everything in between. She had changed her life, and she didn't regret a single moment of it. Serena knew, always, from the second their lips met that second time, that she would be with her forever, that she would love her forever, and that's what she felt now: love. She loved her more than life itself. But the woman she loves, the woman that she would do anything to protect, had been made so desperately lonely by her actions that she had to wish for a _friend_ , for just the slightest connection with another human being.

"I should get back to work," Bernie announced, Serena jumping slightly as she was brought out of her thoughts. "Sorry for rambling on. I promise I'll be nicer to the staff in future." She opened the door.

"Bernie," Serena called after her. She turned around. "Just… My door is always open, if you ever want to talk?"

Bernie smiled softly. "Thanks," she murmured, her eyes downcast. "But… I think you know the reason why not?" She met Serena's eyes and the younger woman faltered, her mouth drying with guilt.

The door closed softly shut behind her.

—

For the next few days, Serena was lost. Bernie did well and truly hate her, after all, for what she had done. She could never rebuild their relationship, that trust that had been so unbreakable between them. All because of her own selfishness.

As usual, at work they avoided one another. Bernie was in theatre mostly, and Serena kept out of the office. She did, however, notice a decrease in the amount of Bernie's paperwork that she had to pick up, and heard less reports of her scolding young doctors in the hallways.

It was Friday night when she finally broke down, at her kitchen table, having managed to hold herself together since their conversation. Bernie Wolfe was going through hell, and it was all because of her. She hadn't been there to support her whilst she was away, and when she returned. She hadn't once told her that she was going to miss her, before she left. She never even told her she loved her. And so Bernie had returned, lost and lonely, without a home to go to or a friend to contact. It was all her fault.

Jason came in, looking puzzled.

"Are you alright, Auntie Serena?" He asked, his forehead wrinkled.

"Yes, Jason," she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm fine, really."

"I'll get you a glass of wine," he stated, moving over to the cupboard. He pulled out a glass and filled it to the brim, so that Serena managed to crack half a smile at how well he knew her. She had once told him that it was improper to fill a glass to the brim, but he wouldn't listen. 'But, you'd only go and fill it up again,' he had answered in his usual matter-of-fact tone. 'So really it's more efficient that you fill it to the brim, because you'd have the same amount anyway and it saves you having to get up for more.'

"Thank you, Jason," Serena took a sip from the glass, immediately feeling herself relaxing slightly at the familiar taste. They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being Serena's uneven sniffs.

"Is this because of Auntie Bernie?" Jason asked suddenly.

"Auntie Bernie?" Serena blinked in confusion. She coughed. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, that's usually why you're crying," he answered. Serena barked out a short laugh. "And I heard that you had a fight earlier in the week."

"Where did you hear that?" Serena frowned, setting down her glass.

"Just round and about," he replied, shrugging. "Porters are very good with gossip, you know."

She shook her head. "It wasn't really a fight," she mumbled, running her finger around the rim of the glass. "It was just a disagreement."

"Auntie Bernie said you told her off."

Serena's head snapped up. "You've seen her?" She said, a little too eagerly. Jason nodded.

"Yes, of course. We go out every week," he informed her. Serena wondered how she had managed to not notice that. "She said you told her off for being to snappy with the other doctors, but that you were right really."

"Oh right. Did she… did she say anything else?" She enquired, attempting to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

"Not really, just that she misses talking to you. Oh, and she agrees with me that you need to get your hair cut."

Serena's mouth fell open, her eyebrows raised. "Charming!" She knew that her hair was getting a little longer than she'd usually have it, but didn't think that it was _that_ terrible. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I don't think she was being entirely honest there. From where I'm standing she doesn't want anything to do with me. Is that what you two do on your evenings out, just gossip between you?"

"Well, we don't get time to do it at work," Jason stated truthfully. "I tell her all about the work gossip; she tells me about the army. It's quite a good balance, really." Serena raised an eyebrow. "And she does want to talk to you. She just doesn't know how. She doesn't want things to go back to the way they used to be, but she misses you all the same."

Serena bit her lip, contemplating Jason's words. She didn't want things to go back to the way they used to be. What did she mean by that? She didn't want them to be in a relationship again, but she wanted them to be friends? Serena didn't know quite how she would manage that. She still loved her, fiercely and deeply, so much so that it could barely be contained. Oh, how close she had been, when they were alone in the office, blinds down, hidden from the prying eyes of the ward, to grabbing her by the shoulders, pulling her to her and kissing her with all of her heart. She wanted to hold her, to be held by her. She wanted to touch her, feel her heart beating beneath her fingertips, remind her that she was alive and here and _hers_. Could she really manage being close to her, without all that?

But then came the alternative: could she really manage without _her_?

—

It was a fortnight before Serena came to a plan of action. Well, she says 'plan'; she hadn't planned it at all. It was one afternoon, after a morning of gruelling surgery, attempting to save a seven year old boy who had been hit by a haulage truck. He didn't survive.

Whilst both of them avoided the office when they could, there were times when they simply had to hide away. This was one of those times. Usually, when Bernie was in there, Serena would stay away, and vice versa, but today, for some reason, she decided to be different.

She went down to Pulses, ordered two extra shot lattes and pain au chocolat, and strode purposefully into the office, gently closing the door behind her.

Wordlessly, she placed the coffee cup on the desk in front of her colleague, along with one of the pastries. Bernie blinked up at her blearily.

"What's this?" She asked in confusion.

"Coffee," Serena replied simply, taking a short sip of hers.

Bernie frowned. "Well, I… er… thank you," she stammered. "But—"

"Serena Campbell." Serena held out her hand over the desk, her eyes meeting Bernie's, warm and friendly. Bernie froze, then allowed her face to relax into a smile.

She reached across and took Serena's hand. "Berenice Wolfe," she introduced herself, giving her hand a small squeeze. "Call me 'Bernie'."

Serena allowed herself a small laugh, their hands still joined over the table. This was the first physical contact they had had in more than eight months, and neither of them quite wanted to let go, savouring every moment of it, knowing that they would have no excuse for it to happen again.

Eventually, with one final squeeze, Bernie dropped her hand, picking up her coffee and taking a large swig.

"Mmm, perfect," she hummed, the corners of her lips turned up slightly. "Just how I like it. How did you guess?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Call it intuition," Serena replied, hiding her smirk by taking a bite of her pain au chocolat.

Bernie laughed. "Well, you have very good instincts, Serena Campbell," she smirked, looking down at her cup. Serena sighed. It felt so good to be talking again like this, the casual chatter and harmless flirtation. She had missed it more than she had realised.

"So," Serena continued, desperate to keep up the conversation. "What brings you to Holby?"

Bernie raised an eyebrow, quickly swallowing her mouthful of coffee. "I was a front-line trauma surgeon in the Royal Army Medical Corps. But now I'm too old, so here I am."

"Oh, big macho army medic, are we?" Serena teased, remembering her words years ago, when Bernie had done her first shift on AAU.

Bernie obviously caught the joke. "Shouldn't that be 'big _old_ macho army medic'?" She glanced downwards, half shyly. Serena smiled at her fondly.

"Well you are quite old, I'll give you that."

Bernie laughed, before mocking offence. "Well, you're no spring chicken yourself, love!" She taunted. Serena gasped theatrically.

"I'm fifty-three years young, I'll have you know."

"So am I!"

"What month, though?" Serena smirked, already knowing she had won but keeping up the game.

"January."

"Ha!"

Bernie couldn't help grinning, taking a bite of her pastry as she did so. They were silent for a few minutes then, eating and contemplating, responding to the odd email as they did so. Soon, Serena found the silence beginning to feel slightly awkward again, so struggled to think of something to pick up the conversation again. Then she remembered Bernie's words a couple of weeks ago, about how much she just wanted and needed to _talk_ , sometimes, but everyone seemed to find it too difficult a topic. Serena took a breath.

"So," she began, more brightly than she had intended. "Tell me about your time in the military. I bet you've got some stories?"

Bernie looked up at her slowly, her eyes penetrating. She knew what Serena was doing, and for a moment looked like she was going to tell her where to shove it. But then she relaxed back into her seat with a sigh, nodding.

"There are some stories I could tell," she said on a breath. "But where can I start?"

"How about the beginning?" Serena suggested, her tone soft and comforting. She saw Bernie contemplating. Was this too much too soon? Had she overstepped a mark? But, although they had been apart for so long, and their relationship had a long way to come yet, they still had that natural, underlying bond that had been so undeniably strong from even their first conversation. It was as though, in meeting, their souls had intertwined, become irrevocably one, bringing with it a natural trust that made it so difficult to keep things from one another, because it just felt _right_ to be this open. Where this feeling had gone in the couple of months before Bernie left, Serena didn't know. Perhaps it was simply clouded by the intensity of the love she felt for her, clouded by the fear of losing her. It was in that moment that she knew that they would be alright, that if a friendship was all they were meant to be, then Serena would welcome that with open arms. There was no way in the world that they were meant to be apart, so this must be it.

Bernie coughed, and began her tale.


	4. Can't Make It All Alone

After that, it seemed they were inseparable again. The long nights at Albies, the inside jokes, the 'dream team' dynamic all returned, and AAU ran smoother than ever. Serena allowed Bernie to vent to her about the army whenever she liked, which in time led to other members of staff feeling more comfortable mentioning it around her too as they noticed her and Serena talking about it, and in turn this helped Bernie to process what had happened.

It was early October, the first time Serena got a text in the middle of the night from Bernie, waking her with a jolt.

 _Are you awake? B._

Serena raised an eyebrow at the words that had flashed up on the screen.

 _I am now. What's up?_

 _Fancy a breakfast? B._

Serena looked at the clock, her brow furrowing. It was 3am, and she really would rather be sleeping. But she also knew that Bernie wouldn't be asking this for any old reason, so she swung her legs out of bed with a groan, threw on some casual clothes and a bit of mascara, and replied to Bernie that she was on her way.

They met at the service station just after the Holby turn-off on the A1. It was the only place that was open for food at this time of day, and both of them found the distance it gave them, the emptiness of the place and the soothing hum of the occasional car on the motorway, somehow comforting. When Serena arrived, Bernie was already sat at a little table in the corner of the café there, her legs bouncing up and down as she pulled her large, oversized cardigan more tightly around her, her cold fingers disappearing under the sleeves.

"Good morning," Serena introduced, sitting down heavily opposite her. "Or would 'goodnight' be more adequate here?"

Bernie barked out a laugh. "Funny," she shook her head fondly. "I ordered us both a full English. Extra tomatoes."

"Ah, you know me so well," Serena smiled, pulling her own jacket more tightly around her. It was freezing in the service station, and the bright white artificial lighting only served to amplify that. She hoped that Bernie had ordered them some tea, too, to warm her fingers up.

"So, what brings us here?" Serena asked eventually. "I feel like I'm at some secret meet in a spy film. Are you going to tell me that you've been undercover the whole time, Jason is a robot and AAU is bugged by secret space aliens wanting to shoot the earth into the sun?"

Bernie laughed heartily, the sound echoing in the empty hall. "Yes," she joked. "That's exactly it. How did you know?"

"I'm in cahoots with them," Serena teased. "I was possessed about a fortnight ago, actually. There's a spaceship outside waiting to take us to the promised land for free tea and biscuits. Unfortunately, they don't do fry-ups." Serena looked past her as the server arrived with their plates of food, as well as two steaming mugs of tea. They thanked him, both going for the tea first in order to warm their hands for a moment before tucking into their breakfast.

"So," Serena tried again. "Are you going to tell me why we're really here? Or am I actually about to get abducted by aliens?"

Bernie shook her head with a small smile, swallowing a mouthful of hash brown. She looked down at her plate. "I couldn't sleep," she said eventually, her hair falling across her face. She quickly tucked it back behind her ear.

"Well, that makes one of us," Serena said dryly.

"I'm sorry," Bernie murmured, her fork playing with a bit of bacon on her plate. "I just… wanted to see you? I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to be in the house by myself, tossing and turning and what-have-you. So I thought, 'hey, I'll go annoy my old pal Serena Campbell for a bit' instead."

Serena chuckled. "Well, next time just come and knock on my door. I'm good at a fry up, you'll remember. Never tried cooking at 3am though, right enough."

"Thanks, but," Bernie sighed, piling some scrambled egg onto her fork. "I wanted to be somewhere a bit more neutral. No, that's not the word." She looked up into the air searchingly. "Just somewhere _away_ , you know?"

Serena looked across at her sympathetically. "Bad memories?"

"Bingo," Bernie replied, taking another mouthful. They ate in silence for a few minutes, both enjoying the greasy food that they would no doubt regret eating later when it was still on their breath at seven o'clock at night.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Serena asked eventually, cleaning her plate with a slice of bread. Bernie put down her knife and fork, reaching for the rest of her tea.

"Maybe," she said, frowning into the air. "It's just… it's not flashbacks, if you know what I mean. I don't have post-traumatic stress disorder, I'm not depressed, I don't feel guilt. It just gets to me some nights, usually after a hard day at work, and I just… I can't stop seeing their faces, you know?"

Serena looked at her sadly. "Yes. I do." She sat back in her seat, slightly nauseous from the quantity of food. "Nightmares?"

Bernie shook her head. "Not even that," she sighed, looking down into her mug. "It's just… sadness? I see all the faces, the people I saw dying, or dead, or seriously injured. Men, women, children, babies. All these people that had their lives cut short." She paused, her thumbs tapping on the rim of her mug. "It's the statistics, too, you know. I just get so frustrated, so disgusted. Did I tell you how many people there were in my squad, when we were posted?" Serena shook her head, sipping her tea. "Twenty-eight. Twenty-eight mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, wives, daughters, husbands…" She trailed off, her voice thickening. "Do you know how many of them are alive now? Less than half. And of that surviving half, six of us got off scot-free."

Serena's mouth opened slightly in shock, but words seemed to fail her, so Bernie continued.

"It just really, really disgusts me. It makes me sick. Physically. I watch the news and I'm sick because its all so…" She looked up at Serena, her eyes watery. "It's just so unnecessary. Why does this have to happen? I know that it _does_ have to happen, really. We have to defend ourselves." She stopped for breath. "It's just so… I just struggle with the… with the concept of it."

Serena set her empty mug down on the table, her eyes on Bernie intently. "I'm… I'm sorry to hear…" She trailed off, realising how useless her words were. "How come you never mentioned any of this before? Your squad…"

"I don't like to think about it," Bernie answered, biting her lip. "Never mind talk about it. It's disgusting, isn't it?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't benefit from some kind of support?" Serena asked gently. "Anything. It doesn't have to be counselling as such, there's support groups and—"

"No, Serena. Seriously, I don't need that," Bernie butted in. "I swear to you, if I thought even for a second that that would help I would be there, but I think for now at least I just need…" She looked up at her tentatively. "I just need _you_. A friend. You know, someone to forget about it with, who I know won't judge me for what I'm feeling."

Serena took a deep breath, steadying herself. She reached her hand across the table. "Well, you've got me," she insisted, brushing her thumb across Bernie's knuckles. "Any time, any place. You know I'd do anything for you." She raised both eyebrows in emphasis and Bernie smiled in response.

"Thanks," she murmured, interlinking their fingers. "You really are too good to me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Serena laughed. "You deserve it all." They smiled at one another for a few moments before Serena spoke again, the words seeming to come out on autopilot. "You know, if you're struggling being alone when you're like this… You could always move back in with Jason and I?" Serena froze, hearing her own voice and immediately regretting it. Why did she have to ruin things?

"Oh, Serena, I don't—"

"In the spare room," Serena interjected, desperate to redeem herself from sounding as though she were propositioning her friend. "I know it's not the biggest room you could have but it's comfortable, ensuite and I know Jason would be thrilled to have you around again." Bernie laughed slightly. "And it would save us both the petrol of having to come out here every time you need it when I have a perfectly adequate shed for when we need to escape the world for a while."

Bernie smirked. "I bet your shed doesn't do a fry-up as good as this."

Serena chuckled. "Well, there's a very good all-night delivery place just opened round the corner which I'm sure would be more than happy to do us a sausage butty if we wanted it." She gave Bernie's hand another squeeze. The older woman held her gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

"I'll think about it," she said eventually, letting go of Serena's hand to get her purse out to pay for their breakfast. "I'll let you know in the week. My next rent payment is due in a fortnight so I'll see."

Two weeks later, she moved in.

It wasn't a lot different, really, except that rather than staying out all night drinking in Albies, they settled for the sofa instead. And on the nights that Bernie was struggling with the memories, they would go out in the garden and Bernie could smoke whilst they drank and ate, or if it was raining they would sit in the shed on two old camp chairs in their pyjamas with a flask of tea, only interrupted by whichever poor soul was on the night shift at Domino's.

Bernie would never set foot in Serena's room, though, and vice versa. It was an unspoken rule established from the moment Bernie had set foot in the house, a boundary that they couldn't trust themselves to cross. Instead, Bernie would text Serena if she wanted her, and Serena would keep her phone by her bed just in case. It was a perfect little arrangement.

They got on better than ever, too. Some nights, they would even cook dinner together, Serena focusing on the preparation whilst Bernie was in charge of the hob, Jason kindly setting the table for them and opening a bottle of wine that more often than not was pretty much empty by the time they actually sat down to eat. Serena didn't know how she could wish for more.

But the problem was, she _did_. Even though they were so close, intimate in their manner and their routine, Serena still itched, after a long day or when they were alone together, to reach out and interlink their fingers, put her arm around her, to have her asleep in her arms. She wanted to kiss her, hold her, love her. Long, sleepless nights were entertained by fantasies of her lying there next to her, of her warm skin beneath her, beneath her lips. The scent of her perspiration filling the air and her breaths short and fast on her neck a she made love to her. Some nights, she would imagine tender, soft, warm kisses and caresses, slow, intricate love-making and whispers of _'I love you'_ with every breath. Other nights she would work herself up into a frenzy, visions of hot, sweaty, desperate fucking flashing through her mind and making her blush all over as she made herself come, all too aware that the woman of her dreams was lying asleep in the room next to her, completely unknowing of the effect that she still had on her former lover.

How could she continue, like this? Serena wondered daily whether it would be better just to admit it, to tell Bernie her feelings and deal with the consequences. But she knew that she couldn't. Bernie did not want it, and that was that. She had no right to go around stirring up old feelings now, when they were both so happy together. She just had to deal with it, and move on. If only it were that simple.

—

 _Christmas Eve, 2018._

The festive season had come round again all too quickly, and as usual they were snowed under. Figuratively and literally. It had been the coldest December for more than thirty years, bringing with it severe snowstorms and subsequently an unprecedented number of broken hips and RTCs.

The Christmas Eve shift was always busy, they knew, with the patients already here wanting to be discharged in time for the big day and the new patients coming in more often than not being sicker than ever as they had often left their ailments, wanting to wait until after Christmas Day to cause a fuss. Now, being a surgeon in the NHS for more than twenty-five years, there were not many things that shocked Serena. But this Christmas Eve, two years on, there was one patient that truly knocked her for six.

"Trauma call!"

The shout came across the ward and Bernie was soon rushing over. Serena watched as Lou relayed the details of the patient to Bernie, before the older woman's head quickly snapped around, calling for her to assist.

"Female, twenties, involved in an RTC at approximately thirty-five miles per hour. Thirty-six weeks pregnant and in full labour, by the sounds of it. They were on their way to the hospital when they were hit."

"Oh, brilliant!" Serena groaned, pulling on her gown. "GCS?"

"She's in and out of consciousness. Suspected fractured tib and fib. Pulse in her right leg's weakening."

As if on queue, the double doors to the ward crashed open. Serena snapped into action, taking one of the side rails as they pushed into the trauma bay.

"What've we got?"

"This is Maria Park, twenty-five years old. She's thirty-six weeks pregnant and fully dilated. GCS twelve, BP ninety-two over seventy. She was KO'd at the scene but's been conscious for the last fifteen minutes or so."

"Hello, Mrs Park, my name's—"

"Ms Campbell!"

Serena turned around sharply, her mouth opening as she saw the man before her: Joshua Park. The last time she'd seen him, on Christmas Eve 2016, he had been at death's door. Now here he was, standing before her, clean shaven and in a suit, admittedly looking a little worse for wear with a large gash to his cheek, presumably from where the windscreen had shattered, and blood splattered across his front. He was clutching a pink hold-all in one hand, presumably filled with her hospital things, and her maternity notes in the other.

"Ms Campbell is she going to be okay?" He panicked, rushing over to her and flapping the notes in his hands. "These are all her notes and stuff from the hospital. The baby's gonna be okay isn't it?"

"I promise you we're doing everything that we can."

"Obs and gyne are all backed up," Bernie announced, replacing the phone on the wall in the receiver. "They're sending a midwife from the maternity unit but she could be another half hour with all the traffic."

"We'll have to do it in here."

"Can she really deliver with that fracture?"

"I don't know."

They both rushed round to examine the patient, Serena checking the pulse in her foot and Bernie inspecting the fracture.

"Pulse is weak."

"Oblique open fracture. She'll need surgery."

"We need to prioritise."

Their eyes met as they ran through the possibilities in their heads. What could they do?

A shriek of pain tore them out of their thoughts. They nodded to one another.

"Mrs Park," Bernie began, returning to her bedside. "Do you feel like you need to push?"

The woman nodded, her face bulging purple from the pain.

"Serena?" Bernie looked around. Serena stopped. Could they really do this?

"Okay, we need to get the leg in a splint so that she doesn't do any more damage, and set her up with some entonox."

Bernie rushed to get a splint to bind her leg in place whilst Serena called obs and gyne again, praying that there was someone, anyone to come and assist. There wasn't.

"How are we going to do this?" Serena murmured to Bernie as the both washed their hands. Bernie looked at her seriously.

"We can. We've got this, Serena. We've done this before."

Serena took a steadying breath. "Okay," she replied, following Bernie back to the bed.

"Right, Mrs Park, on the next contraction, we want you to push, okay?"

Maria nodded as Bernie ducked down to check her dilation.

"Serena, I can see the head."

Serena's eyebrows shot up. "Okay. That's fast. Does it look okay?"

"Fine."

"It's coming again," Maria panted, her grip tightening on her husband's hand as her face contorted with pain.

"Right, I need you to push right down into your bottom for me," Bernie instructed as Serena held the entonox to the woman's mouth for her to drag on. "Just like they showed you in antenatal class. Push right down."

Maria shrieked again as she pushed, the veins in her forehead throbbing with effort.

"That's it! The head's out. Well done, Maria. You're doing really well," Bernie praised, her tone warm, and Serena felt a rush of pride run through her at how good Bernie was at this, at everything she did. "Just relax a moment, now. You're doing brilliantly."

"I don't feel good," she panted, her eyes fluttering. She promptly turned her head and vomited all down Serena's front.

"Oh, the joys of childbirth!" Serena groaned, gritting her teeth against the smell. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bernie smirk and made a mental note to get her back for that later on.

"My leg…" Maria groaned. Serena looked over at Bernie worriedly. She placed two fingers on the top of her foot, checking the pulse there.

"Getting weaker," Bernie told, her face screwing up. "Damn."

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to have to—"

"It's coming… I can't do this…"

"Please don't let her die!"

"We need to get this baby out, now."

"Push, Maria!"

Serena held the entonox in one hand and a vomit bowl in the other, not wanting a repeat of the last contraction. She reassured the screaming woman that she could do this as she pushed hard, her eyes streaming and sweat beading on her forehead. And with two more torturous contractions, she gave birth to a baby girl, Andrea.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Joshua had tears in his eyes as he held his baby girl for the first time, and Serena felt slightly emotional too. She looked up to Bernie and found her staring across at her, her eyes bright and glistening, her lips turned up into an affectionate smile.

"Well done," she mouthed. Serena wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, though she would be lying if she said that it were entirely due to the baby. The rush of love she had felt when Bernie had looked at her was agonising, like a stab to her heart. She had been so _stupid_. Where would they be, now, had Serena not ruined things? She wanted nothing more than to be able to walk over, slip her hand into Bernie's, kiss her gently and happily. But she had thrown all that away, her own ignorance taking over.

After allowing her a few minutes with the baby, they rushed Maria into theatre. The surgery took longer than expected, but it went well, and Bernie insisted on closing up so that Serena could go and tell Josh the good news.

"We'd better get that face stitched up, too, young man," Serena asserted, pulling the suture kit towards the bed on which he was lying. They were quiet for a couple of minutes, comfortable silence as Serena put some local anaesthetic into the wound before suturing it.

"I never thought this is how I'd be spending my Christmas," he said eventually, as Serena finished the first stitch. "In a car accident, with a baby…" His lips turned up into a grin as his eyes fell on the cot beside his bed. "Thank you, Ms Campbell. Really. Not just for the baby…" He turned his head, just as Serena was about to start the next stitch. "I never forgot you, you know. I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't have got me into that rehab. It was a good one."

Serena smiled. "Ah, yes. Well, a friend owed me a favour. One of the best in the country."

"Thank you," he repeated sincerely. His eyes watery. He sniffed. "So, anyway, enough about me. How are you? Did you ever get that dance?"

Serena's stomach went cold. "I'm sorry?" She feigned ignorance, gesturing for him to turn his head so that she could continue stitching, but he didn't quite get the message.

"You know. You said how you'd always dreamed of dancing to _Fairytale of New York_ under the stars or something, with the love of your life. Did you get to do it?"

"Just turn your head for me," Serena instructed, before beginning the next stitch. She sighed. "No, I didn't," she murmured finally, swallowing back a lump threatening to form in her throat. "I made a right royal mess of that one."

"What did you do, tread on his toes or something?" Josh joked. Serena shook her head sadly.

"I pushed _her_ away, when she needed me the most," Serena told, carefully cutting the thread as she finished the second stitch. "And now she can't forgive me. Well, we're good friends. Living together, actually. But not like that. Never like that…" She trailed off, letting out a deep breath.

Josh frowned. "But, have you told her this is how you feel?"

"Well, not in so many words, but—"

"Tell her," he insisted. "Remember what you told me, there's always second chances."

"I'm not sure that would apply here," Serena huffed, her eyebrows raising. "I think it might be beyond that."

"So?" Josh frowned. "How many time was I in rehab? Six? Seven? Remember you telling me, and me telling you that I wouldn't live to see another Christmas? Look at me now. I've been clean for eighteen months. I have an apartment, a wife, a job, and now a daughter. People can change. There can always be another chance."

Serena swallowed thickly, looking away. "In most cases," she said evenly, her jaw clenched against sadness. "She doesn't want it. End of."

"Not until you've told her how you feel," Josh urged, but Serena wasn't budging.

"Come on, let me finish this stitch," she sighed heavily. He shook his head, but allowed her to begin finishing suturing.

"Mr Park," Bernie appeared after a couple of moments. Expert timing as always. Serena sniffed.

"Maria is out of surgery now. Everything is fine, she's just a little groggy. She's in the side room, if you'll show him the way once you're finished, Serena?"

"Yes. Yes, of course." Serena nodded in Bernie's general direction, but kept her gaze on Josh's stitches, not wanting her to see the emotion in her eyes. She disappeared again, and they were silent for a few moments.

"That's her, isn't it?" Josh murmured eventually. Serena trimmed the thread on the last stitch, before beginning to clear up.

"Really, Josh, it's fine. I'm more than happy with life as it is, thank you."

"But that's not the point, is it?" He persisted. "I was perfectly happy drinking myself to death, all because I was scared to want better than that, because I thought it was impossible." He caught her arm, his eyes wide and assuring. "But it's not impossible until you try."

Serena heaved a heavy sigh, her arms falling slack with defeat. "I'm sorry, Josh. If I thought there was any chance, I'd be there like a shot, but it's just not what she wants."

He held her gaze, until finally he dropped his hand. "Just think about it, okay?" He asked, swinging his legs off the bed. "You deserve to be happy. You deserve that dance!"

Serena smiled warmly at him, giving his shoulder a squeeze before showing him to the side room. His words rang in her ears. _There can always be another chance_. She shook herself mentally. Bernie didn't want her, and that was that. Better to have loved and lost, as they say. She wiped her eyes, and set back to work.

She didn't see Bernie for the remainder of her shift. A major trauma had come in, so Bernie was wrapped up in theatre for most of the afternoon, and by the time she was finished Serena was in surgery herself. It was a long operation, an emergency aortic valve replacement, and complications meant it took Serena well past her shift finishing time. It was half past ten, by the time she was scrubbing out, her eyes tired and her body aching with fatigue.

With their shift's both supposed to have finished at eight o'clock, Serena assumed that Bernie would be home by now. She hoped that Bernie had cooked something enough for both of them for dinner; she was starving, but too tired to be bothered making much herself. She made a mental note to text her when she got back to their office, so that she could stop for a takeaway on the way home if there was nothing better on offer.

However, there was no need, seeing as when she opened the door Bernie was sat there at her desk, her eyes scanning some unknown email. Her head snapped around as Serena entered, frowning.

"What're you still doing here?" Serena asked, flopping heavily into her own chair, just needing a moment to psych herself up for the walk home. She really did wish that they had driven today, but the car was frosted over and they had been running late as it was.

"I thought I'd wait for you," Bernie replied, her eyes still on the screen as she clicked off the program and began shutting the computer down. "Wouldn't want you slipping and breaking your neck on that ice all by yourself now, would we?"

Serena laughed, shaking her head. "How thoughtful!" After a pause, she swirled around in her chair to pull her jacket from the rack behind her. Bernie stood.

"Actually," she began, pushing her thumbs into the back pockets of her tight jeans. "I was wondering if you'd like to go for a quick drink? It is Christmas Eve, after all…" She looked up at Serena, one eyebrow raised in question.

"'Quick drink'?" Serena replied, pulling on her coat. "Does that concept even exist for us?"

Bernie barked out a laugh. "Well…" She shook her head, her gaze falling to the floor. She coughed. "It's almost eleven o'clock now, isn't it. It'll be forced upon us. Don't Albies chuck out at twelve?"

Serena shrugged. "Usually. Don't know if it's different for Christmas, though." She hesitated, before standing. "Fine. But you're buying. And you're responsible for food, I'm starving."

Bernie nodded happily, and they said a quick 'Merry Christmas' to Josh and Maria before making their way to Albies, their coat collars turned up against the icy wind. Serena was only too happy when Bernie suggested they nip into the local chippy along the way to warm themselves up, and they ate their chips in silence as they walked, finishing just in time for their arrival.

"Shiraz?"

"Ah, you know me so well."

They waded their way through the busy pub towards the bar, both of them flushed with the sudden heat. Serena tugged off her scarf and hat, unbuttoning her coat just as they arrived at the bar.

"Dominic Copeland! Just the man I wanted to see!"

Serena jumped as Bernie shouted through the crowd. She frowned up at her friend.

"Sorry, Serena, I'll just be a moment. Here." She reached into her pocket for her card. "PIN number's Charlotte's birthday. I'll be five minutes." And with that she was off, leaving Serena perched on her stool at the bar, her bag resting on the one next to her to save Bernie a seat. Though slightly peeved at being left by herself, she couldn't help but smile at the contrast between the Bernie that had returned from the war six months ago, and who she was now. She had receded into herself, was so detached from the world around her and so bitter towards everyone she met, but now she was brighter than ever. Serena was so proud of her, of how far she'd come. It made her heart ache.

She ordered a bottle of their most expensive Shiraz, seeing as Bernie was buying, and two large glasses to go with it. She was half way through hers when Bernie reappeared.

"Drink up. We're leaving," she announced, lifting Serena's coat for her to put back on.

Serena gaped, her forehead creasing. "But, we've just got here. I've ordered a bottle—"

"We can take it with us," she reasoned, holding out the coat for Serena to put her arms in. The younger woman sighed before obliging, muttering to herself about what a pain in the arse her friend was sometimes. Bernie grinned at her, draining the wine that Serena had poured out for her before taking the bottle, nodding goodbye to the Keller team and leading Serena out onto the cold street.

"Share and share alike," Serena said as she grabbed the bottle from Bernie's hand, lifting it to her lips as they walked. Bernie laughed at her.

"Such a lady, Serena Campbell," she teased.

"Don't you just know it," Serena replied with a smirk, offering her the bottle. Bernie obliged, taking a large gulp for herself, before looking at the label.

"Christ, Serena. This stuff costs a fortune!"

"Shouldn't have left me at the bar with your card then, should you? Merry Christmas to me!" Serena laughed, and Bernie couldn't help but grin at her. They walked a bit further, until Bernie linked her arm with Serena's.

"It's awful slippery," she reasoned, taking the bottle from Serena again with her free hand. Serena just nodded, careful to watch where she was putting her feet in the snow and trying to ignore how wonderful it felt to have Bernie this close to her, trying to ignore the way her heart raced and her head span at the contact.

"Hang on, stop a moment," Bernie announced. Serena's feet skidded slightly as Bernie's strong arm, linked with hers, kept her in place. She turned around.

"Everything alright?" She asked, her forehead creased with worry. Bernie smiled at her shyly.

"Look where we are," she murmured, avoiding Serena's gaze.

Serena blinked, turning her head to take in their surroundings. They were on the Holby canal bridge on the outskirts of the city centre, exactly where they had been standing two years previous.

"I… I don't understand," Serena stammered, her mouth hanging open. Bernie fumbled around in her pockets.

"Just… Oh don't tell me I've bloody lost them…" Bernie's forehead creased and Serena couldn't help a fond smile, though her eyes still widened in confusion. Eventually Bernie fished two small wireless earbuds out of her pocket. With a somewhat shy smile, she placed one in Serena's ear and one in her own.

She cleared her throat. "Um… Dr Copeland showed me how to work these but… Just bear with me." She laughed nervously, tapping her phone as Serena watched in wonder at the impulsive, beautiful, messy, loveable woman stood before her. An icy gust of wind brought with it a fresh falling of snowflakes, and Serena wrapped her arms around herself, her teeth chattering and her shoulders shuddering as she watched Bernie faff about with her phone.

"Bernie, wha—"

Serena stopped dead as sound began to flood through the earpiece, the gentle opening of her favourite Christmas song...

Serena's eyes widened, emotion tugging at the back of her throat as Bernie gazed down at her, her own eyes glistening.

 _It was Christmas Eve, babe..._

"Listen, Serena," Bernie began, her voice low and sincere. "I know... things have happened. We've both done things, said things that we regret and that we shouldn't have and that's fine, and I don't want you to ever think for a minute that I blame you or that I don't forgive you for last Christmas because I know... I realise that it was a lot to take in. We were both to blame, but..." She was rambling now, and Serena opened her mouth to interrupt but Bernie raised her hands, signalling for her to allow her to finish.

"But... I love you, Serena. _I am in love with you_. I always have been, always will be. I've been so _stupid_ , holding back all these months. I just didn't—"

"Bernie," Serena interrupted her, her eyes sparkling. " _I love you._ " Bernie let out a deep breath, her lips curling upwards into a faint smile.

 _I can see a better time_

 _When all our dreams come true_

She stood back slightly, holding her hand out to Serena, who grinned as the song picked up it's pace. Bernie's hand was firm in hers, tugging her towards her then lifting their joined hands above her head as she spun her around before pulling her back so that their bodies were flush against one another. Serena let out an elated laugh.

 _They've got cars_

 _Big as bars_

 _They've got rivers of gold_

 _But the wind goes right through you_

 _It's no place for the old_

 _When you first took my hand_

 _On a cold Christmas Eve_

 _You promised me_

 _Broadway was waiting for me_

" _You were handsome_."

" _You were pretty._ "

They mouthed along to each other as they twirled about, unable to keep the shameless grins from their face as they moved together, Bernie with one arm around Serena's waist and Serena with her palm resting on Bernie's shoulder, her other hand intertwined with Bernie's as they danced. She was vaguely aware of somebody passing them on the other side the street, staring in wonder as they made fools of themselves laughing into the night, but she didn't care. She was the happiest she could remember being for decades, in the arms of the love of her life, twirling beneath the stars.

 _I could have been someone_

 _Well, so could anyone_

Bernie slowed their pace along with the music, gazing devotedly into Serena's eyes. "I promise I'll be better, this time," she vowed, her voice low and thick. "We'll take it slow. I've made enough mistakes, I _never_ want to lose you again."

 _You took my dreams_

 _From me when I first found you_

Serena looked into her eyes and knew in an instant that she meant every word. Something seemed to shift in her stomach, the dark clouds of guilt and doubt dissipating and instead being replaced by certainty that this was it; this was the moment that her whole life had built up to. All the mistakes, the agony, the regret, the good times and the bad, all led up to this moment and this woman stood before her.

 _I kept them with me babe_

 _I put them with my own_

She opened her mouth to speak, to confirm her feelings, to tell Bernie it was okay, but words failed her, her heart beating too violently for her to do anything other than lean forward and capture her love's lips in a bruising kiss, a sharp whimper escaping both their lips as they finally gave in, after all these months.

 _Can't make it all alone_

 _I've built my dreams around you_

They swayed to the music until silence descended upon them once more, only the gentle sounds of their shallow breaths and their lips moving against one another filling the air, until the chimes of Holby Cathedral brought them out of their trance as the bells rang out for Christmas Day. They pulled apart, both of them barely able to speak through their elation.

"Home?" Serena eventually choked out, a little laugh following it as she slipped her hand into Bernie's, her heart skipping.

"Yes. _Home._ " Bernie leaned down once more, kissing Serena with all the tenderness in her heart until she had to pull away, afraid her legs might give way.

"Merry Christmas, Berenice." Bernie chuckled at the use of her full name.

"Merry Christmas, Serena Campbell."

She placed a gentle kiss on the cold tip of her nose, before taking her hand and leading them through the falling snow to the soft warmth of their home for Christmas.

 _ **The End.**_

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 **Thank you all for reading! Any feedback gladly received :)**


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